by Cat Schield
“Where are we headed?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“I don’t like surprises.”
“Not even good ones?”
She lapsed into silence and let him escort her to the passenger side of his car.
The drive to his house took less than ten minutes. She looked relaxed and calm as he guided the car down King Street, but the minute he turned onto an obvious residential avenue, she sat straighter.
“Where are we going?”
“Dinner.”
“Yes, but where?”
“My house.” He glanced in her direction as he slowed and parked beside the curb. “A friend of mine planned a wonderful menu especially for us.”
“This is yours?” She stared at the house. “Funny, you don’t strike me as a Queen Anne.”
“The inside is more modern.” Suddenly he was eager to show it off.
She looked concerned. “Not too modern, I hope.”
“You’ll see.”
The full tour took them nearly thirty minutes. Ryan paid careful attention to her every expression as she strolled through the rooms, missing none of the crown moldings or the wood inlays in the living-and dining-room floors. Her eyebrows rose as she assessed his minimalist styling, modern light fixtures and enormous upstairs bedrooms.
“Come outside and see the pool,” he coaxed, drawing her onto the back porch.
“This is really beautiful back here. How big is the lot?”
“A quarter acre.”
“That’s big for downtown Charleston.”
“Come this way. I have something else to show you.” He led the way along the porch to the first of his guest apartments. “The previous owners created two one-bedroom units back here that they leased out. I use them when family or friends come from out of town.” He opened the first door and gestured her inside.
“This is nice,” Zoe commented, her gaze sweeping over the open galley kitchen, cozy navy sofa and high ceilings. “I imagine your guests enjoy the separate space.”
“It’s yours for as long as you need it.”
“What?” She gaped at him.
“Most of the time the apartment is empty. I’d like for you to stay here until you can get back on your feet.”
She made a series of faces as she thought it over but it was obvious she was tempted. At long last she sighed. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Whatever you’re charging, I can’t afford it.”
“I’m not charging you anything.”
“But you don’t know me. And may I remind you that earlier this week you were accusing me of working for the opposition.”
“I talked to Susannah and told her I believed you could be trusted.”
The morning following their dinner at Bertha’s Kitchen, he’d met with his sister and Gil, passing on everything that he’d learned. Susannah had been satisfied, but Gil hadn’t been ready to give up so easily. Several run-ins with Abernathy over the years had left him very suspicious.
“What if I move in and get so comfortable I never move out?” Zoe continued, her arguments growing more desperate.
“I doubt you’re going to do that.”
“You don’t know me,” she repeated, but with less vigor this time.
“So, let’s go have dinner and you can fill me in.”
Ryan had no idea if she was giving his offer serious consideration as they settled in the dining room. His table was large enough to accommodate ten, but Ryan wanted a more intimate meal so he had set two places on one end. With the lights of his modern chandelier dimmed to romantic levels and candles flickering, the mood was intimate and relaxed.
“This is quite nice,” Zoe commented vaguely, her expression unreadable as she sipped a chilled glass of crisp white wine and glanced around.
“Do I make you nervous?” he asked, sensing the ambience wasn’t having its desired effect.
“Yes.”
As much as he wanted to grill her, Ryan held silent, hoping she’d fill the emptiness with explanations.
“It’s all a bit much, don’t you think?”
He shook his head. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”
“The offer to move into your house. The romantic dinner.” She leaned back in her chair and regarded him. “I feel as if you’re an advancing hurricane and I waited too long to evacuate.”
“You need a place to stay. I have one. I like helping people.”
“So your sister mentioned a few days ago.” Zoe cocked her head. “She said you tried to help someone last year and it led to the trouble at your company.”
Ryan’s gut clenched and he gave a tight nod. “Kelly Briggs was a disturbed young woman.”
“She cost you millions.”
“Yes.”
“And yet you don’t know me at all and you’re willing to help me out.” Her eyes drilled into him as she searched for answers. “What if the same thing happens again?”
“Will it?”
Before she could answer, they were interrupted by the arrival of the first course delivered by Paul’s cousin. Dallas Shaw had worked for several upscale Charleston restaurants over the years. She was currently a private chef looking for investors so she could open her own restaurant.
The redhead smiled as she set the plates down and began her presentation. “What I have for you to start is smoked salmon toast with petite arugula and cucumber salad. Enjoy.”
“This looks wonderful,” Zoe murmured, taking a bite, her eyes going wide with pleasure.
As he watched her savor the appetizer one delicate bite at a time, Ryan realized how much he wanted to make her happy. She’d obviously had a hard time in the last year, but instead of whining about it, she’d dug in and tried to improve her situation. His family valued hard work.
“Earlier you said you want to know more about me,” Zoe said, her grim tone making her sound like a suspect sitting in an interrogation room. “Where should I start?”
“Wherever you wish.”
Zoe waited until Dallas replaced the appetizer plates with a beet and pistachio salad before declaring, “Tristan accused me of infidelity as the reason he wanted a divorce.”
Shock stabbed Ryan. “You cheated on your husband?”
Her lips twitched in amusement at his sharp reaction. “No, but Tristan made it look as if I had.”
“How did he do that?”
“He paid someone to falsify a paper trail and doctor photos. You can make anything look real if you throw enough resources at it.”
It struck Ryan then how cynical she was. And damaged. Her ex had done a number on her. Red flags began to flutter in his mind and he decided to ask Paul what he knew about Tristan Crosby.
“But in your case the truth won out,” Ryan said.
Zoe’s eyes reflected a deep and profound sadness as she said, “Sure, but this town is all about appearances and doubts will linger long after the real story comes out.”
She wasn’t wrong, and it irritated Ryan how often gossip trumped truth. His parents had emphasized fair play would take the twins farther than cutting corners or cheating. Because not everyone subscribed to the same lofty values, sometimes doing the right thing didn’t mean you were going to win.
“A week from today there’s a fund-raising dinner for Susannah at the Whitney Plantation,” Ryan said. “I agreed to go, but I don’t have a date.”
“Do you need one?”
Ryan wondered if she was being deliberately obtuse. Didn’t the woman realize he’d brought it up because he wanted her to accompany him?
“It gets old always being the third wheel around my sister and her husband,” Ryan said. “They are the perfect couple.”
“It must be terrible for you being the eligible bachelor all the time.”
&nbs
p; “You have no idea,” Ryan told her. “Will you be my date for the evening?”
She gnawed on her lower lip as she gave the invitation some thought. “I haven’t gone to any events where I might run into...people from my former life,” she murmured, taking a sip of wine.
“It would be a great opportunity to promote your store,” he said, hoping that would be enough to entice her. “And I’ll be there to look out for you.”
“It seems like I should say yes then,” she replied with a slow smile.
“Good.”
For the rest of the meal they stuck to easy topics like tourist attractions around Charleston neither one had visited and favorite area beaches. Ryan spoke about growing up as a twin and discovered Zoe had three older sisters who lived all over the country. Two were married with children and one worked on Wall Street.
He was finishing the last bit of chocolate hazelnut mousse when Zoe gave a huge sigh. Unsure what had prompted such a dramatic sound, Ryan glanced her way. To his surprise, her eyes were filled with tears.
“I’m really tired of sleeping in the back room of the store,” she announced in a shaky voice.
“I imagine you are,” he said, his heartbeat a hard thump against his ribs as he watched her dab at the corners of her eyes with her napkin. “Let’s finish our wine and go get your stuff.”
* * *
The limited number of things Zoe owned was brought home in a big way as Ryan regarded the two suitcases she rolled toward the back door of the shop.
“Is that everything?” he asked, making no effort to hide his surprise.
She hiked a large tote onto her shoulder and nodded. “I didn’t take much when Tristan evicted me from our house on Daniel Island. If I’d been less shell-shocked, I might’ve grabbed more than just some essentials, two suitcases full of clothes and the few pieces of jewelry he let me take.” As she spoke, her expression twisted with embarrassment and regret. “Everything was in his name. The cars. The house. My credit cards. I left the house the same way I’d arrived, owning nothing except what he’d given me.” She paused a beat before finishing, “And what he gave, he could also take away.”
That she continued to open up about things that had bothered her a great deal gave Ryan hope that she was feeling more comfortable with him by the moment. Hearing the pain in her voice helped him understand why she’d been so cagey about her past.
Moving her into the guest apartment took less than ten minutes. Sensing that she still needed some time to adjust to her new situation and surroundings, he left her to explore the space and returned to the main house.
As he was heading upstairs, Ryan noticed that Paul had tried to reach him while they’d been at the store and he called him back. “Hey,” he said when his friend picked up. “What’s up?”
He moved to the double window in the master bedroom that overlooked the backyard. The pool glowed a bright turquoise below.
“Sorry I haven’t gotten back to you sooner about that store you wanted me to look into, but one of my cases heated up in the last few days.”
“No problem,” Ryan said, figuring he already knew what Paul had learned. “Were you able to find out anything interesting?”
“Zoe Alston owns Second Chance Treasures,” Paul said, confirming what she’d already admitted. “The building is owned by Dillworth Properties.”
“Dillworth Properties,” Ryan repeated, the name a faint whisper in his memory. Something about it made him uneasy, but he couldn’t place the reason. “Why does that sound familiar?”
“Because it’s owned by George Dillworth.”
Ryan cursed. “As in Lyle Abernathy’s oldest and dearest friend.”
“That’s it. Also, I did a little checking. She’s three months behind on her lease, but so far they haven’t shown any signs of evicting her.”
She’d mentioned having financial difficulties, but three months was a long time to go without paying rent.
“How much does she owe?” Ryan asked.
“Fifteen thousand.”
He rubbed at his temples as a dull ache began to throb there. “That might be enough to make her desperate. It wouldn’t surprise me if Abernathy took advantage of her situation.”
“I was thinking the same thing.”
Neither man spoke for a long moment, giving Ryan an opportunity to ponder how to handle this new revelation.
At last Paul spoke again. “What are you going to do?”
“I can’t confront her about it. She won’t appreciate that I’m still having her investigated.”
“So what’s left?”
Ryan hesitated a beat. “I’d already decided the best way to keep an eye on her was to stick as close as possible.”
“How close is that?” Paul asked, his voice a blend of curiosity and amusement.
“I moved her into one of my guest apartments.”
“That’s awfully close. Are you sure it’s a good idea?”
“Probably not, but she was sleeping in the back of her store because she ran out of money.” And Ryan was banking on proximity fanning the sparks between them into flame. “You know, if Abernathy is using her financial problems to put pressure on her to dig up dirt on Susannah, then maybe I can take away his leverage.”
“And how do you plan to do that?”
“By making an anonymous payment to Dillworth Properties on behalf of her store.”
“You know this is all speculation and there might not be anything going on,” Paul pointed out, his level tone giving no hint of his opinion. “You could be throwing money away for no good reason.”
Ryan considered that, but whatever Zoe was mixed up in, he had faith that when it came to the women she was trying to help, her heart was pure.
“I give to charity all the time,” Ryan pointed out. “This is no different.”
Except that this cause was acutely personal to him.
“And,” he added, “we still don’t know if she’s at all connected to Abernathy.”
“Do you want me to keep digging?”
“Thanks for the offer, but I think you’ve spent more than enough time indulging my paranoia.”
Ryan hung up and considered what he’d just learned. Although the news brought back the demons of distrust, he realized that even though he still had questions about her motivations, his suspicions, potent though they might be, weren’t enough to stop him from wanting her.
A voice in his head reminded him that he’d known Zoe for little more than a week, but a drumbeat of lust and longing held more sway. He felt a connection with her that outstripped anything he’d ever experienced before. He simply couldn’t let her go until she’d worked her way out of his system. Whatever that took.
Six
For the last week, Zoe had been staying in Ryan’s guest apartment. Each morning that she woke up in the king-size bed and shuffled into the open-concept kitchen, dining and living space with its high ceilings and heart-pine floors, the hardships of the last year faded a little more. And it wasn’t just her new environment having a positive effect on her psyche, but also the amount of time she’d been spending with her handsome landlord that lent her optimism a gigantic boost.
The night after she’d moved in, he’d appeared at her door at six.
“Hungry?” he’d asked.
She’d gone out earlier and stocked her refrigerator, but hadn’t decided on what to make for dinner. “I guess.”
“I’m about to throw something on the barbecue,” he said, not seeming at all put off by her ambivalence. “And I hate eating alone.”
“Me, too.”
Though she’d gotten used to it, being married to Tristan. He often worked late. Or at least that was the excuse he’d given on the nights he’d come home late smelling of perfume and red wine.
“I’ll throw together a salad and co
me over.”
That dinner became the first of many. Every night Ryan would stop by her door with an invite, sometimes still dressed in his tailored suits, other times in jeans and a T-shirt. Every night she said yes because being with him was so much fun. With Ryan she laughed and argued and felt utterly normal.
He possessed exactly what she needed to make the world go away. Or at least to enable her to forget all about it for a while. His smile kindled a glow in her chest. The glancing contact with his body as they worked side by side left her giddy and breathless. His fingers tantalized her skin as he caressed her cheek or held her hand. And when his lips closed over hers at the end of the evening, stealing her sighs and setting her blood on fire, she couldn’t imagine being happier.
Tonight’s dinner was different from the last few. Instead of fixing a meal together in Ryan’s big, white kitchen, he was taking her on a double date with Susannah and Jefferson. Everything in her rebelled against getting in deeper with the Dailey siblings because the more time she spent with them, the harder it would be to do them harm. And she was starting to wonder if there was anything to dig up concerning Susannah or her campaign.
What if it was impossible to come up with something? That sure wouldn’t make Everly happy and her erratic behavior the night Ryan had come by the store left Zoe convinced the woman might do something disastrous.
Pushing aside the problem of Everly’s unwanted intervention for the moment, Zoe turned her attention to another bit of trouble. She picked up the envelope that had arrived in the mail today. For weeks now she’d been expecting something from the property management company telling her that she had to vacate. She was three months behind on the rent and it was only a matter of time before they kicked her out.
With a heavy sigh, Zoe slit open the envelope and pulled out the invoice from Dillworth Properties. She smoothed the sheet of paper and braced herself for the total at the bottom.
The number was zero.
How was that possible? She owed fifteen thousand dollars.
Zoe pulled out her phone and dialed the number of the management company. When the receptionist answered, she asked to speak to Tom Gossett.